


Grapes

by flowersforgraves



Series: hc_bingo round 8 [6]
Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-25 23:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13223280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforgraves/pseuds/flowersforgraves
Summary: In which Peter is hospitalized (again).prompt: drugged





	Grapes

After my latest run-in with a moving vehicle, Nightingale brought grapes when I was in the hospital (again). That was… a relief, in some ways, because it meant I probably wasn’t going to get punished too badly for being reckless (again). But then again, I was also on some pretty heavy-hitting painkillers, so I didn’t really have any worries at the time.

“Hi,” I said, when he came in.

“Hello, Peter,” he said. He set the grapes down on the table next to me. “How do you feel?”

“Great,” I said. “I could probably go for a run tomorrow. But that’s probably all the Norco. But you’re probably going to make me feel less good with whatever you’re going to say next.”

He smiled slightly, the kind of smile he reserves for when he’s humoring Dr. Walid or purposely irritating Seawoll. “Yes, well, there is always more business to take care of. And I’ve decided you’re the one who’s going to take care of the paperwork this time. Policing waits for no man, woman, or child.” And he promptly took his other hand from behind his back, and put down at least fifty pages of forms. “Feel better soon, Peter,” he says.

I groaned. This wasn’t going to be fun, and in fact was going to hinder my plans to relax for the rest of the afternoon considerably.

Thankfully, before I could summon the will to drag the paper over to me, Beverley showed up. Not even the prospect of fifty pages of paperwork could dampen my appreciation of her. “Hi, Bev,” I said.

“What did you do to yourself?” she asked.

“Well…” I didn’t quite know how to explain in a way that would sound reasonable. “It seemed like a good idea at the time?”

She huffed. “Of course it did,” she muttered. Then she shoved her own set of grapes into my hands, leaned over me, and kissed my forehead. “I don’t know why I have any sympathy for you any more.”

“Because I’m smart and good looking?” I asked. 

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, that’s definitely it,” she said. “It couldn’t possibly be because I love you.”

I stared. “Did--”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Okay,” I said. “Okay, okay. I, um, I love you too.”

“You don’t have to say it,” she told me. “If it’s not true or if you aren’t ready, don’t say it.”

“It’s true,” I hastened to say. “I just wasn’t expecting that. I didn’t know if we were… if we were there yet.”

She chuckled suddenly.

I tipped my head to one side. “What?”

“I thought the person on painkillers was supposed to be the one confessing their love,” she said, laughing. “Not the one who comes to see them.”

I couldn’t help it. Her laugh was contagious, and I loved it, and her, and everything. I started laughing too, and when one of the nurses stopped by the room to make sure everything was alright, I held Beverley’s hand tightly until he left.


End file.
